Adrenaline
by Scarlett R Winchester
Summary: When adrenaline runs strong, desire runs deep.


_**A/N:** Thanks to my lovely Kait (winchesterenthusiast over at tumblr for betaing it._

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The last chopped head drops to the ground and Dean sighs in relief, panting. This certainly was a messy job, nests of vamps always are, and even though it's finished, he can still feel the adrenaline pumping strong in his veins. He raises his head to stare at Y/N, who pretty much mirrors his expression. After quietly and hastily burning the corpses, they get in the Impala and drive away like a bat out of hell.

Dean barely shuts the door of their motel room before he's all over her; he really meant to ask, or at least insinuate, but his body didn't give him the chance and does all the thinking (or maybe it's the Mark?), but given her reaction... yeah, no question was ever needed. She's pressing herself all over him, feeling up his body.

It's all tongues and teeth and hot breaths and grunts of desire.

He doesn't stop kissing and touching her as he maneuvers her towards the bathroom, and she doesn't resist, she lets him guide her as they leave a trail of dirty, discarded clothes behind.

By the time they reach the shower, all there's left is their underwear.

When the water is nicely warm, Dean pins her to the wall; her body feeling so soft and warm that he can't help the delighted moan from escaping his lips. Not that he would have tried to stop it.

God, she feels _so_ nice, just the way he always imagined.

The feel of her full breast in his hand, the way she's grinding him. _Fuck_ , it's like heaven. Better than heaven, actually.

His other hand keeps traveling between her ass and her lower back; it's a dilemma, because he wants to scoop her up, but he also wants to keep coaxing those little sexy, strangled gasps she utters every time his fingers brush the dip of her back.

Abandoning her breasts, his fingers slowly travel south and find the desired treasure. God, she's _so_ warm and wet, and Dean moans again. He teases her and plays her until she's a moaning, pleading mess.

Her hands had been on his back, grabbing and scratching and wanting. Now her right hand is teasing his dick, and Dean is about ready to pop.

Y/N is several inches shorter than he is, and as much as he'd love to scoop her up and have both her legs wrapped around his waist, he doesn't trust his own footing, not on this slippery floor. So he resigns some of his own height, bends his knees and gets his cock down to the level of her pussy.

She's impatient, if her touching and moaning are any indication.

She lifts one of her legs and braces it around his waist, as high as she can manage, and Dean holds her tight with one arm, while he plants the opposite forearm on the tiles above her head for support.

The moment he slides in, everything around them disappears; there's no sounds other than their heavy breathing and their moans and their sloppy kissing. Not even the sound of the water running. He just zeroes in on this moment.

His bent knees give him the perfect leverage to thrust up into her hard and fast, but on his way out he takes all the time in the world. The broken moan she lets out resonates in his bones, and he'd be damned if he isn't gonna do it again and again to cause the same reaction...

But all the composure he somewhat managed slips away the moment her arms grip him tighter and her mouth latches onto his neck. It's brutal, she's wild and needy and Dean certainly can't get enough.

So he tears her apart, piece by piece, until neither can take it anymore. That swift, surgical teasing of her clit causing her to scream loudly the moment she orgasms; in the wake of her pleasure she drags him along with her.

It takes them several minutes to calm down, and in the aftermath of their passion they quietly clean up between kisses and caresses.

Dean silently muses and wonders about meanings and implications, but that meaningful look Y/N keeps giving him tells him everything he needs to know.

His heart certainly skips a beat.

There's no words exchanged at all, except for their usual 'good night', and Dean definitely thinks they should talk, but not tonight. Not when Y/N suddenly decides his bed is better than hers, tucking herself in his arms and acting like this isn't something new.

Dean certainly doesn't mind; and for the first time ever since getting the Mark of Cain, he sleeps peacefully and with a smile.

He sure as hell isn't gonna give that up.


End file.
